Present, Absent
by soymaid
Summary: Spike refuses to let Dawn deal with Buffy's death alone, so he moves in. AU clearly - what should have happened after The Gift. A tad depressing, admittedly, but at least Spike's end of the stick is a bit longer this time.
1. One

They sat in a circle, at Xander's place. Some on the couch, some on the floor. Nobody really noticed. There was crying, a lot of crying. Like it had been with Joyce, but a thousand times worse. Xander was too stricken even for anger. Anya's stomach hurt. Willow and Tara had an arm around each other, and Willow was talking, and Willow was crying, sobbing, but she had been for so long now that she just kept talking right through it. Tara, silent, was holding Dawn in her arms, the skinny body curled close, wracked with sobs. Spike was there.

He was listening to Willow, trying to listen to her, because who cared anymore how they had been before. His knees were in front of his chest, and his elbows resting on them, as he tried to hold his head up with shaking hands. He had to look down between his knees a lot, into the darkness of his clothes, away from everyone. Had to let the tears fall discreetly.

"So," Giles, staring at the carpet, numb. "We have to try to figure out… what, what to do to, um, to keep on," his stuttering was less from earnestness and more because he was barely listening to himself, "keep on living." He glanced at Spike. "Or whatever it is we do now." They looked up at him, all except Dawn, who couldn't right then.

Xander tried to speak. "I know this is horrible, but… if we need something really strong to protect… this place, here… us," his voice cracked, "We have that… robot." He winced as he said it. The others were shocked.

"You're right." Quietly, from Anya. "We do have that." Silence.

"Oh god." Willow's voice had broken, it was a whimper, high and distorted because her throat wasn't working very well. "Dawnie. Oh god." She began sobbing anew. Tara held both women more tightly, rubbing Dawn's back. The funeral today… hadn't helped. Not really.

The group shared looks. Tara looked to Willow. "We could—" She stopped, not sure if they could. Willow looked up, nodding.

"Yeah," she answered. "We could, I think…"

"I will." They all turned. Spike.

"Spike," Giles began, "I know right now we're all very-"

"Please," Spike growled. "I know what I'm doing. I can take care of her, all right?" He was barely stopping himself from breaking down. "I just… I know what has to be… Give me a chance, all right!" He looked like his stomach felt worse than Anya's. "I can. I can this time. I will."

Who knows if Xander would've made some pointless remark about Spike's ill-fated feelings towards their Protector, about getting in good, if he'd had the energy or the will. At this point, it didn't much matter anyway. It was hard to argue.


	2. Two

Willow and Tara, the last to split off, left them at the door to the house on Revello. Spike locked the door once Dawn had got inside. They went for the couch.

She looked up at him, and the pain in her face more than even he could bear. Loss, and bitterness, and guilt and emptiness. Grief.

"I know you're just here for her." She met his eyes, and her bravery reminded him of her sister.

He shook his head. "Nah. Why do you think she even asked me for that gig?" Desperately, desperately normal. "I'm here for _you_, bit. Dawn." It seemed like he should call her by her name. "To help you… and because I want you here, too." The words sounded so strange and not-Spike, but then he'd never really had to be so straightforward with Buffy.

Was he crying? He noticed he was. Dawn threw herself into his arms, crying too, and he held her and they were crying together, and it felt a lot better than crying into his coat. He wasn't sure if he should lie there, after she'd quieted and he was exhausted enough to sleep as well, and figured, better for it to be weird than for Dawn to wake up alone. He carefully closed the curtains over the couch, and lay back down next to her, on top of the blanket he'd used to cover her.

She wouldn't have to wake up alone.


	3. Three

"A doctor." She met his eyes suddenly, sitting up as he returned to the living room with blood and milk. He handed her the milk.

"What's that? Who's a doctor?"

Dawn, it seemed, had inherited Willow's Resolve Face. "I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I could open up a hospital, like a not-for-profit. Seriously no-one ever practices magical medicine. The entire field is unexplored. And I totally have the grades, or I mean I did before… mom. I could start that whole thing up again."

"Bit," his voice sounded weary. "That's because magic and medicine don't do well together. People's molecules tend to get muddled up when they try."

"But that doesn't even make sense!" Dawn protested. "It never has! I mean, what's so special about people's bodies that magic wouldn't work? It's just stupid!"

"I think because humans have souls." Spike's voice was distant and chilled Dawn when she heard it. She tried to look into his eyes, but he wasn't there with her. "Nowhere else, souls. More powerful than some tetchy spell."

It was suddenly very important for Dawn to recover his attention. "Spike, Buffy's soul went to heaven. It went to heaven, didn't it? I mean, I know the portal was to Hell but wasn't it to like everywhere else too? She could be in heaven." He looked at her and was undone by her eyes.

"Don't think the portal had anything to do with where she went, luv." He answered as honestly as he could. "Think she went where she was supposed to go."

Dawn nodded, but her throat was making this whimpering sound and her mouth kept twisting. "We'll never know, though, for sure." She stopped there.

"No. Like God and what-all. If you knew, you wouldn't have to believe." He frowned, surprised himself at what he had said.

"So we have to believe." Dawn nodded. It hadn't been a question.


	4. Four

Dawn wasn't dumb. She peered out her window; Spike was smoking on the porch again. She knew what was going on. She wasn't like Spike's little sister or daughter or anything like that. She was his duty.

When, for that crucial second right after, he hadn't even been able to look at her – shame. When he'd looked up, grim and resolved, and held her – obligation. When his embrace had tightened… well, she couldn't quite figure that part out. She thought maybe he was just trying to do what he hadn't been able to do before. She didn't know what Buffy had said to make him act like that, but somehow it wasn't just Dawn herself, it was her sister that Spike was holding. It creeped her out. She didn't like being taken care of by the guy who was obsessed with her sister.

She sorta wished she hadn't given up her journal; she really felt like writing in it right now. Too late now, duh. She exhaled in resignation. Spike was done. Better go downstairs – he was kinda needy for an undead guy. All smoke and bluster and as bad a cook as she was. She felt sort of dumb being taken in by it, but she had to admit he was nice at the weirdest times.

After kitchen escapades that ended predictably in blackened scrapings of something definitely not supposed to be served blackened, Dawn was salvaging leftover yogurt from the sides of the container, impatient to finish and move onto her banana. She had tried to meet his eyes only once, and found such intense longing and grief that she hadn't tried again – she'd hoped he would've stopped doing that every time their eyes met by now. Maybe that's just how he looked all the time? He'd enjoyed tonight's "pot-banging gig" well enough.

"Buffy once told me she... that you were even more special than other girls your age, and she didn't know if you'd ever realize that," Spike blurted suddenly. Startled and a little bit taken aback, she looked up at his face. He looked earnest, which was a welcome change from stricken.

Unsure how to respond, she paused. Then she looked down, smiled, and gave up trying to defuse the weirdness. "Once I was teasing her about you, and she said that she didn't understand how you could be, um, how even without a soul you could be such a kind person." She looked back up at him, and he was surprised, touched. Suddenly she got a feeling in her chest, and she wasn't sure if this was about Buffy anymore.

'Spike,' she thought, 'Is this all for me?'


End file.
